


you've got eyes like the blues

by prettypetals



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: (Slight) BDSM Themes, (in the beginning), Abusive Relationship, Dark!Charles, Domineering Charles, Hurt!Erik, M/M, Obssessive Behavior, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 03:45:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12050619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettypetals/pseuds/prettypetals
Summary: No one seems to see the monster that Erik wishes them to see behind Charles' mask.





	you've got eyes like the blues

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: the word 'blues' in my title means several other things such as: gloominess, melancholy, despondency, dejection, etc. its just a collection of somewhat negative emotions, i suppose.

He never makes it too far before the blue eyed demon calls him back with a soft _stop._ telepathically pushed into his subconsious and as if the thought was his own, Erik turns away from the door and braces for the impact he knows, just _knows_ that perhaps he doesn't actually quite deserve. But maybe he has brought it upon himself for disobeying _his_ orders.

It is always the same, now like a routine.

It goes like this; They wake up and a light, gentle, loving kiss is pressed onto the back of Erik's neck. 

They eat breakfast on the terrace that over looks the maze-like garden below as the sun shines like a beam in the sky. 

They had made plans to surround themselves with friends the night before, so they do so in this moment. They take a taxi that drives them to a well known pub just across town. _His_ hand clutches Erik's knee in an absent gesture, but still the motion is a sign of possession.

At their destination, _he_ tips the cabbie a few extra bills, smiling his superficial smile. The same one that the old Erik used to swear lit up the moon and stars. 

And now, now it makes his stomach clench uncomfortably. 

How _disgusting._

Inside, they are greeted by _his_ sister, Raven and Hank. Both whom Erik prays with all his might can look and see beyond t h e  c r e a t u r e that glidlessly wove in and out of the farce that was _him_.

Hank claps him on the back whilst Raven ushers them both further into the pub, gleeful smiles and already flushed cheeks. _He_ is the wolf in sheep's clothing.

 _**Behave, sweetling.** _ A psychic link is shared between the both of them.

Erik contains his shiver, knows that his stray thoughts had been overheard. _He_ has promised to never dip into Erik's own thoughts, yet _he_ had once mentioned how sometimes words, powerful emotions, deviant contemptions seeped through his defenses. Those were the ones _he_ put effort to block out.

Midway into downing his third drink, Erik excuses himself in order to refill his glass at the bar table. Things seem to be going well. Intact

"Got a drink for ya," The bartender says to him after he exchanges Erik's empty one for a light pink fruity looking ensemble. "Says his name's James-" The bartender pointedly nods his head over to the left over Erik's shoulder. "And between you and me, I'd go over and thank him. Angel's Death ain't a cheap and easy thing to mix up properly."

Erik accepts the drink, tastes the bubbly concuction, and in the end makes up his mind to head over to the corner behind him where a lone man sits with his coat sleeves up.

Erik knows that what he's about to do is a grave sort of act. To actively, warily seek the attention of someone who wasn't _him_ , to walk forwards and simply interact with a prospective partner...this would not end well. But Erik was tired and angry. There was only so much a caged lion could do to keep sane when the zookeeper himself kept the bars wired with electrical pulses, made in such a way that when the lion walked close, it would get zapped.

Erik was tired of being pulled on strings, fearful. Perhaps tonight he'd get a sense of revenge. No matter how fleeting.

Erik instantly feels the invisible shackles rear up somewhere unknown to him over his body- though it was in his mind, it still felt as if it was a physical manifesto- he ignores it in favor of smiling carefully at the man whom Erik now realizes with a start seems familiar.

"I wanted to thank you for the drink," Erik says so politely whilst he shakes the glass he holds in his hand.

The wolvish looking man grins, his teeth white and gleaming and _feral_. Like a wolverine.

"Don't mention it, bub." He replies back smoothly. He gestures to Erik to take a seat across from him. 

Erik accepts.

"Guy with your looks could probably get more than just a drink from me."

Erik feels his face flush. It was still novelty when others regarded him with compliments about his features.

"Thank you....?" Erik subtly prompts him for his name.

"They call me Logan, name's actually James or Jimmy, but Logan's more or less the name I'm commonly known by. What about you?"

"Erik. Erik Lehnsherr."

Logan gives a half smile, a thoughtful look in his eyes as he leans closer, his elbows resting on top of the small table. "Don't suppose you've ever been to The Brotherhood? Sometime last year or so?"

Then a flash of a memory kickstarts in Erik's head and he remembers why 'Logan' seems so familiar. 

"You were the one who..." Erik can't bring his lips to say the words.

Logan chuckles with a sly grin. "Knew that's why you looked so damn recognizable to me, you're that metal bender I wanted to fuck when-"

Erik blinks for a second when Logan suddenly cuts short and twists his face in an uncomfortable postion before relaxing.

"You might wanna let go, Lehnsherr `cuz as much as I'd wanna get to know ya, I ain't above getting my claws out...if you get my drift." 

That is when Erik understands that the moment he had blinked, _he_ had taken control of his powers, had touched the metal laced bones Erik could sense dancing underneath Logan's skin. He needed to leave. Now.

"Sorry," Erik says apologetically because he is. "My powers tend to have a mind of their own, you see, and when my emotions get the best of me..." It is a good enough explanation. A believable one. "I'll be going now." 

Erik stands up from his chair, makes way to leave when-

"I'm kidding, bub. You don't seem like the type to go and hurt random people and seeing as your _friend's_ walking towards us, I think I'd better be the one to leave." Logan tears a napkin from the table and scribbles something, numbers possibly, leans over, and stuffs the parchment in Erik's front pocket. He lingers admitably too long for custom before he gives one last grin and walks away.

 _He_ arrives not a second later and winds his arms around Erik's waist, chin proped on his shoulder.

"Who was that, dear?" _He_ questions him seemingly nonchalant. But Erik can feel the bubbling **jealousy hate anger** minemineminemine roll off of him in waves.

"No one." Erik says.

" _Good._ "

 

Raven and her husband Hank chide _him_ on his not so subtle attempt to cockblock Erik's new admirer and they all laugh. 

Erik fakes his. 

He has no other choice because the alternative is dire, so, so impossibly dire. 

_He_ nuzzles his face, murmurs his red lips against Erik's collarbone, tells him in a whisper that _he was going to punish him so horridly tonight_ because no one can have him let alone even touch him. How dare they? Raven over hears this, smirks like a lynx. She thinks that the way her brother says this means something along the lines of possession and horniness and she's right.

Partially.

Erik knows the truth.

Night falls deeper and _he_ becomes more restless, fidgeting by running his fingers through his dark hair every so often, tense and agitated when the bartender hands Erik another free drink from a patron. A woman this time who giggles with her flushed face as the friend next to her gives _him_ a slow, languid look that in the past would have made his blood rush south and a pick up line on the tip of his tongue but now does nothing for him but leave him irritated and unaffected.

In his peripherical vision, he sees Erik lean a little to close to Hank and that is his cue to snag Erik by his right elbow- tender and sweet to onlookers and those who claimed to know them intimately- yet was tight and bruising with the pair of them that knew the secret truth.

Everything seems normal, safe as they arrive home to the mansion that _he_ owns. Erik wishes quietly -though knows that whatever dreams and hopes he secretly desires will be an open book once they step through the threshold- that things could go back to once they were, to a time when they had never locked eyes that faithful day in the book signing, to a time _the very moment_ those sealing words spewed from Erik's mouth.

"Wait," Erik says, his brain rushes to think of a way to evade entering into the house. _He_ cocks his head to the side, waiting patiently but a small tick jumps below his azure blue eyes reveals impatience.

"I'd like to go and visit my mother," A believable excuse. Erik hadn't seen her in a week's time and _he_ enjoyed her company.

A pressed sigh. 

"Darling," _He_ says softly. "We can see Edie tomorrow evening. It's far too late at night now, not to mention that I'm bone tired" A lie. "and you look right about to fall over your own two feet..."

 _He_ reaches forward to stroke Erik's cheek but Erik flinches back like a reflex and _his_ eyes narrow accusingly.

"Let us go inside, Erik." The cold tone in _his_ voice leaves absolutely no room for argument.

 _He_ holds the door open for Erik like a gentleman and closes it once _he_ has stepped through as well.

 _He_ locks the door and throws the keys on top of the small in-table near the coat hanger.

Erik knows the procedure by now, has it programmed into his very soul. If automatons even had one because it seemed like such a long, long time ago 'once upon a story' since Erik considered himself human.

Humans had free will. 

He didn't. 

Not anymore.

 

Erik goes to kneel in front of the foyer, eyes cast down. There is no point in taking off his coat. Not when the faint scent of another man's cologne already stains his own body, not with the neatly folded piece of paper that James had hastily used to write down his number, especially not with the wintry gaze Erik feels creep up his spine.

Erik continues to keep his eyes directed to the carpeted floor. He listens dutifly for the soft footsteps nearing him until they fade upon the exchange from tile to rug.

"Erik," _He_ says, calmly.

Erik slowly raises his head, his eyes unwillingly seek the eyes of _his_ .

His throat becomes dry once he sees the hurt and pained look in those round, blue, blue _blue_ eyes. 

Erik would rather there be fury within those depths because at least then he could keep up this hatred for this **beast**.

Such a monsterous little thing _he_ truly was.

"Erik, " He repeats, this time it feels like an invisible weight it pushing down on his name, urging him to comply. To follow with the monotone acts he's been forced to play.

" _Charles..._ " Erik croaks.

He closes his eyes as if he has surrendered himself as an offer for a sacrifice, not for the first time-

he thinks about how _this_ all of _this_ began-.

 and braces for impact.


End file.
